


February Fiction 2016

by sue_dreams (raegan_1)



Series: February Fic Fest [12]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 07:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5905045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raegan_1/pseuds/sue_dreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Smallville stories written in February. Stand alone and without pairings unless otherwise marked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my little [February Fic Fest](http://sue-dreams.livejournal.com/tag/febff) thing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark is swallowed by the dark. (A dark start to the month. Unreliable/limited PoV)

Clark woke again to the dark. He lifted his hand to his face and opened and closed his eyes, feeling the flutter of his lashes against his palm. Darkness, still. He forced himself to breathe in and out slowly even as his heart continued to beat too fast.

"I'm going to touch your left elbow," a voice said, barely audible over the rush of blood in his ears. It was followed by light physical contact to match what the voice had said, cool fingers sliding over his bare skin. The fingertips of the hand rested only briefly, and then slid up his bicep, rounding his shoulder and slipping toward his neck without further warning.

Clark's breath caught as the fingers paused against his pulse point and his voice was little more than a ragged gasp for more air. "Lex?"

"It's four thirty-seven in the morning, the sky is still dark out. You're in my bed at the mansion. The curtains are open. So is the bedroom door. The closet door is closed. The lamp on your right is on, but the shade makes the room glow purple and it's not very bright."

Little had changed since the last time Clark had woken like this, hours ago according to Lex's statement of time. It was easier to listen to the cadence of Lex's voice and stay calm than it had earlier. "Thanks."

"How are you feeling? Aside from the obvious, of course." The bed dipped and Clark could almost imagine he felt the brush of heat of Lex's body close to him, but he knew he himself was covered by blankets and it was doubtful that Lex was wearing less than a layer of clothes. It was nice to imagine it briefly, though.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pretended the darkness was a choice. It pulled the skin of his face and the sting of his left cheek was a reminder that his vision wasn't the only thing he was lacking. He hated to lose his powers now that he'd grown accustomed to them, but to lose his ability to heal even a scratch was like insult to the injury of his blindness. Or maybe it was related.

"Whoa, Clark," Lex's hands pushed against his shoulders and Clark realized that he must have sat up. It had been a purely thoughtless response, a precursor to getting up to go and solve this puzzle. He sighed and laid back down, felt Lex's hands smooth over his chest before they lifted away. "What was that about?"

"Sorry. I just realized that--" It was almost a secondary pain, having to stop himself from talking, but it was as if the loss of his sight--and powers--had also robbed him of his memory. He and Lex weren't friends, not like their early acquaintance had promised, and while Clark had been trusting Lex up to this point, he was suddenly reminded of the last weeks--months, years!--of antipathy and outright antagonism. "I just realized that Mom hadn't come by."

"She did, while you were sleeping," Lex answered smoothly.

All of his answers were delivered in that calm, deliberate, "trust me, I know what I'm talking about voice" and only now did it seem grating and wrong.

His silence must have belied his thoughts. The mattress shifted as Lex's weight was removed from it. "Oh, Clark," Lex murmured, simultaneously mocking and sympathetic. "You really have trust issues."

There was the barest susurration of sound. Lex walking away? It was impossible to tell, as the other man said nothing more. "Lex?" Clark called out, but there was no answer. Just the darkness, the absence of light and the sudden vacuum left by the death of his hope. "Lex, please. Lex!"

 


	2. Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha is on page 10 of _Fifty Shades of Gray_ when her brain equates Anastasia with Clark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for my little [February Fic Fest](http://sue-dreams.livejournal.com/tag/febff) thing. Martha and Clark and Conner, because I can. This is pretty meta for me.

The saddest part, she thinks, is that she hasn't even read far enough to truly understand the characters. It's a surface comparison at most, but it lingers. The book is donated to the lending library, the majority of the pages as unopened as Anastasia's legs.

When she's eating dinner with Conner and Clark later, a special event given their busy lives, she recalls the book. She considers telling Clark about it. He'd probably find it as funny as it is potentially embarrassing, and she knows Conner would jump in to tease him. Maybe Lois has read the book and she can talk to someone else about it, reinspire the excitement she'd felt when she'd picked up the book.

Then, for some reason, she recalls the pages she had read, Anastasia in that office building, waiting for the self-important and idolized Christian... and the man who comes to mind is Lex Luthor.

"Mom?" Clark says. He sounds worried and she tries to smile, but then realizes that Conner is looking at her with a similar expression. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she says, choking on what could be laughter or horror. "Just had a--" --a terrible, wonderful thought? She laughs and it's natural. "Just thinking about a book I wanted to read."

Her boys are skeptical and she doesn't blame them, but now she can't share the thought at all. Lex is such a touchy subject to bring up to anyone, but she remembers him when he first showed up in Smallville. And he'd even had that room in the mansion; Lionel had complained about it more than once, but had never seen inside it, as far as she was aware.

"You got pale and now your face is flushed," Clark says, standing up from his chair and moving around the table toward her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Clark. Conner. Just... met some characters who stuck with me."


End file.
